


Lucky Charm

by LiveSkippy



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Comfort, Episode: s03e03 Salvatore: The Musical!, F/F, Fluff, Hope and Landon are Broken Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29441580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveSkippy/pseuds/LiveSkippy
Summary: The scene we deserved in 3x03 and what should've happened.Cleanse your soul of 3x04, because we all need it.Also a Valentine special now, I guess.
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman
Comments: 10
Kudos: 180





	Lucky Charm

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I'm putting off STYG because my brain is about to collapse. Had to give myself serotonin after 3x04. 
> 
> Happy Valentine's to all my fellow singles!
> 
> Enjoy this fluffy one-shot.

Hope never was a team player. There was something impotent about depending on other people to achieve an end that set her on edge. People lacked ingenuity, they looked out for themselves first—there were a myriad of ways a plan could go wrong.

Hence, Hope didn’t understand how Salvatore pulled together a musical in a week.

Students zoomed around her like a storm of pixies—the noise was bad from her room but standing backstage in the heart of it all pained her ears. Even worse was the narrow space they had to move combined with the standard teenage hormonal stench. Salvatore was not an arts school, nor one that gave a rat’s ass about them, and it was obvious in the DIY impression of it.

Behind the closed curtain, a pair of wolves were setting up a Mystic Falls backdrop. Hope squinted and turned her head sideways, trying to guess why it looked so… runny, as if someone had melted the actual painting.

“Watch out!”

Hope ducked as a makeup brush whizzed over her head. A witch uttered an apology as she chased it around the theater. Backstage, a row of plastic chairs lined a long set of mirrors where students were getting their makeup done. Witches rhythmically threaded their fingers in the air to powder three people at a time. Hope assumed they were extras since she didn’t see Lizzie or Josie among them. They must have their own dressing rooms.

Further down the hall, Kaleb was propped on a vault going on and on about “teamwork” and “school spirit”. Hope pushed her way through the crowd amassed around him.

Kaleb saw her, and a bright smile appeared on his face, “Hope! Are you joining us for the musical?”

Hope shook her head and lifted the manuscript in her hand, “I’m just passing by. Landon left this in my room.”

After Landon fled, she placed an isolating spell on her room to shut out the raucous of the play. She was content with mindlessly painting for the rest of the night, but when she stepped back to measure proportions, she saw Landon’s manuscript on her nightstand. Her first instinct was to rip it to shreds. Then burn it. Then throw it off a cliff to never be seen again.

And yet… she was curious to see what was inside. It was an accursed craving to know more about her father and his life before her. She was aware of the trail of destruction he built through the centuries, but every bit of information she learned fit in the puzzle that was her father. She felt closer to him.

In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to destroy the script. But she couldn’t open it, either. Landon’s invasion of her privacy was a sore wound, it left her awfully vulnerable with nowhere to seek comfort. Her only protection was anger. Whatever good intentions Landon may have, he didn’t know Klaus. He couldn’t—he shouldn’t make him a character in a ridiculous school musical. Hope had seen firsthand what students at Salvatore thought of her father. The play wouldn’t change anything.

It was her last ounce of human decency that pushed her to return the manuscript.

“Oh, you have the holy text?” Kaleb hummed, “Landon didn’t let anyone touch that. But I think it’s because his handwriting is illegible.”

He jumped down from the vault and dismissed the crowd. He seemed energetic—who was he playing, Damon or Stefan?

She cursed herself for not bothering to remember this basic detail. Kaleb was her friend, and he was excited for the musical, she should be happy for him. Instead, she wallowed in loneliness. Again.

She must’ve been quiet for a long time because Kaleb started nodding his head awkwardly.

Hope cringed internally, “Uh, yeah, I’ve seen it. Speaking of Landon, is he around?”

Before Kaleb could answer, a short witch with large, round glasses and a clipboard pushed on his chest, “There you are! I told you to get into costume after you were done fixing the lights but _no_ , you’re still in those sweaty joggers with minutes to go—”

The witch ushered Kaleb through the crowd. He jumped over the sea of heads and called, “Give it to Josie! _OW_ ,” The witch whacked his face with the clipboard and shoved him inside a door labeled _Damon Salvatore_.

The chaos around her intensified, overwhelming her sensitive ears. Josie? She hadn’t talked to her since the misadventure in her subconscious. When she first woke up from her coma, seeing Josie was her top priority, but she let herself get distracted by Landon. And then Josie left for Europe. Now, it seemed silly to bring up something that happened weeks ago, but at the same time it was insensitive to gloss over it like it never happened.

Every time she saw Josie in the halls, she longed to talk to her—except she never decided on a plan of action and ended up watching her from afar instead.

Their relationship felt…estranged. She’d rather assist Lizzie in the talent show than be alone with Josie.

A vampire knocked into her side and nearly sent the manuscript flying. A low snarl tumbled through her mouth.

_Give it to Josie._

_Give it to Josie and you can leave._

She rolled her shoulders back to relieve some of the tension and focused on the weight of the manuscript on her hands. She glanced around her for a door with _Elena_ written across it or any other sign of where Josie might be. But the multitude of frenzied bodies eclipsed her surroundings.

Growling, she yanked on the collar of a boy that happened to pass by and brought him to her eye level, “Where’s Josie?”

His headset drooped over his eyes, and when he rearranged it his mouth fell open, “Hope, I—she…” Unable to form a coherent answer, he grabbed his mic and hissed furiously into it, “Elena’s whereabouts. Stat!”

He attempted a smile, but his distress twisted it into a grimace. Hope rolled her eyes at the same time a fizzle came from the mic. Her ears attuned to the voice: “Dressing room. I’m touching up her hair.”

“Where’s her dressing room?” Hope pressed.

The boy swallowed his words and pointed to a curtain at the back of the lounge. She let go of his shirt and marched over to it. People had become aware of her presence and were now parting out of her way like the Red Sea.

She pulled the curtain aside and came upon a long, almost deserted hallway. It was much more serene than backstage, like time froze in this little pocket while the rest of the school vibrated in anticipation. The two closest doors read _Stefan Salvatore_ and _Caroline Forbes_. Hope continued down the length of the corridor until a third name caught her attention: _Klaus Mikaelson_.

As if lathered in gasoline, her skin set aflame and burned. Her feet moved closer to the tag, attracted to the familiar name. Slowly, her fingers traced the plastic, drawing every line and curve the way she imagined her father had for centuries. The lights above her head flickered dangerously.

This was wrong… everything about the musical was wrong.

There was click—a girl came out of the farthest door with a belt of combs, scissors, and a pocket-sized hairdryer. Hope stepped back from the door and nodded cordially as the girl walked by. She ignored her suspicious glance and waited until she was gone, then shot a quick hex under the door. Nothing deadly, just a bad stomachache.

Finally, she came face-to-face with the red door labeled _Elena Gilbert_ , a golden star taped above it.

Hope looked up to the ceiling and rocked back on her heels. Should she knock? What if Josie was rehearsing or didn’t want to see her—or worse, what if she was naked? Yeah, she should definitely knock.

She didn’t knock.

Her hand twisted the handle and pushed inside a sliver, enough for Hope to poke her head in. The room was lit in a warm, orange glow that smelled strongly of Josie’s cherry blossom perfume. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the smell in the last few weeks. There was a rack of clothes obstructing her vision, but she could make out the back of Josie’s head over it. She stood before a large vanity, carefully taking out her ear piercings.

Hope opened the door further and knocked on the wood.

Josie glanced at her through the mirror and spun on her heel once she realized who it was, “Hope, hi.”

There was a certain airiness to her tone that told Hope she wasn’t expecting her. Perhaps she wanted to be alone until the play? God, she just couldn’t get anything right since the dark magic incident.

“Hey, Jo…” She drawled, closing the door behind her. Her eyes caught on Josie’s costume—a maroon shirt layered over a white tank top, boot-cut jeans, Converse, and a black jacket to complete the look, “Bringing back the 2000s?”

Josie looked down at her hands, “Yeah, lots of pleather.”

“You look lovely.”

She smiled, “Thanks.”

Hope walked into the room but halted halfway, remembering herself. It felt as if a wall divided the room in two. She didn’t dare test its limit; afraid she’d break the fragile atmosphere.

She scrambled in her brain for a neutral topic, “I was looking for you—”

“You were?”

“Yeah, Landon let the play’s manuscript in my room. It looked important so I planned on returning it, but he’s nowhere to be found. Thought I’d leave it safely with you.”

“Oh…” Josie frowned for a moment, and Hope mirrored her expression—did she choose the wrong thing? Fuck. The witch blinked and the disappointment vanished, “Sure, yes, I’ll take it.”

Hope fumbled more than she’d liked, but she managed to place the script on Josie’s hand. In her haste, she let their fingers brush and the spark of electricity that always came with touching Josie spread over her arm. A delicious shiver ran down her back—she tried to mask it by pulling back.

Thankfully, Josie was looking at the script. She appeared thoughtful, lost in her own mind. Hope took that as her cue to leave.

“Ok, well…good luck with the musical.” She started for the door, chastising herself for her lack of social skills. How embarrassing for her, really. She just wanted to hide in the quiet of her room and forget the musical ever happened.

“Wait.”

Hope stopped. She turned around and saw Josie place the script on the vanity. She looked up at her with a wide, innocent expression that eased Hope’s concern.

“How are you feeling about all of this?”

Hope pursed her lips, “Wonderful.”

“Hope.”

“You wouldn’t know,” She quipped, “You haven’t been here, Josie. You wouldn’t know.”

The witch fell silent. She nibbled on her bottom lip, a habit whenever she was pondering over an idea. Hope never liked what came after.

“You’re right, but only because you’ve been ignoring me ever since you woke up. For a second I thought I imagined all of it, everything you did—well, I guess I did, since it happened in my head.”

Hope frowned and kicked the floor dejectedly, “I looked for you in the morning, but by that time you were gone.”

Josie folded her arms, “So, I’m not crazy. That _did_ happen.”

“Of course, Jo.”

An air of disbelief lingered around Josie. The room closed around Hope, crystalizing into porcelain—one wrong move would shatter it to a million pieces.

When Hope felt as if the porcelain might drop, Josie said in a near-whisper: “Did you mean it? What you said then.”

Hope’s breath shuddered at Josie’s vulnerability. She could never bring herself to lower her walls enough for the dark thoughts she kept under lock to surface. In her nightmares, she drowned in their grief and pain until she forgot all warmth.

But Josie… she possessed a strength she’d never seen before. She unapologetically wore her heart on her sleeve when the world had taught Hope to guard hers at every turn. Josie saw the best in people and opened up to them. To hand over your heart like that, knowing they have the power to break it, was madness.

And pure courage.

“Yes, every word.”

She met Josie’s gaze, pouring into her eyes the admiration and pride she couldn’t put into words. It was a necessity, she wanted to let Josie know she was strong—like she’d always seen her.

What a horrible job she’d done of it lately.

Josie broke away first, busying herself with the mess on her vanity. Hope cleared her throat, feeling a strange warmth on her cheeks. She paced around, trying to escape the charged air. It was in vain—it filtered through her breath, combined with dizzying cherry blossom.

With a semblance of composure back in order, she returned to the vanity, making sure to keep a good distance between them.

She watched as Josie reapplied her lipstick, even though she didn’t need it.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve been there for you.”

“For what, the field day?” Josie laughed, albeit humorlessly, “I deserved everything they did to me.”

Hope was almost offended, “No, you didn’t. Those pesky little shits took advantage of you—”

“Hope.”

“Sorry.”

Josie fidgeted with a necklace, a poor attempt at nonchalance. Hope saw the storm raging behind her brown eyes—guilt, embarrassment, sorrow.

She stepped closer, “You made a mistake, Josie, it doesn’t mean you have to be punished for it—by other people or yourself. You learn from it and you grow.”

Josie swallowed thickly and looked to the ceiling for a few seconds.

Hope noticed the glisten of her eyes and gently caressed her arm, “Hey, save those emotions for the audience. They’ll go wild.”

Josie chuckled, a wet sound that reverberated sadly in Hope’s heart. She laced the necklace through her fingers and, after a moment, she nodded.

“Good. Now, let me help you.” She threaded the necklace from Josie’s hands and gestured for her to turn around. The witch did and pulled her hair to the side. Hope leaned over her shoulders to lay the chain on her chest—

“Hold on,” Josie snatched the necklace from her and dug through her makeup bag. Then, she pulled out a small velvet sack, and from it, the silver talisman Hope gifted her on her sixteenth birthday.

Her eyes widened in surprise; she couldn’t believe Josie kept it or the tenderness with which she handled it.

The witch looked up with a shy smile, “I, uh…I’m supposed to wear a replica of Elena’s necklace for historical accuracy, but I’d feel more comfortable knowing I have my lucky charm with me.”

Hope’s heart swelled with joy and a volley of butterflies exploded in her stomach. She opened her palm and Josie set the locket on it. Once again, she turned around and swiped her hair to the side. Hope beamed as she stroked the fine silver talisman, remembering how nervous she’d been the night of the twins’ birthday. It was the first time she’d given a gift to anyone outside her family and she was terrified Josie wouldn’t like it. She imagined her storming to her room and throwing the necklace to her face.

With timid fingers, she stood on her toes to reach Josie’s neck. She was much too aware of the heat radiating off her body, and the sweet cherry blossom perfume was not helping. As her hands trailed back to the clasp, a path of goosebumps rose on Josie’s skin. Hope stared at it. Entranced, she caressed the sensitive skin. Josie tried to hide her sigh, but Hope’s enhanced hearing caught it. A smirk pulled at her mouth. She wiped it away quickly.

Her fingers grazed against hot skin as she clasped the necklace, and every time the damn spark left her arms numb. She placed her hands on Josie’s shoulders and met her eyes through the mirror.

“All set, Ms. Gilbert.”

There was knock before the witch with glasses poked her head into the room.

“Four minutes ‘til you’re up.”

“Be there in a sec, Allegra!” Josie called back.

Allegra closed the door, sending the room into silence.

“I think it’s time I go back to, as Lizzie likes to call it, my _chamber of a thousand sorrows_.” Hope mocked.

“Don’t you want to stay?” Josie said, “We worked really hard on the musical.”

The expectancy in Josie’s eyes almost pulled a _yes_ from her, but Landon’s complete disregard of her boundaries felt like a punch to the gut.

“Not this time.”

Josie’s lips turned downward in the adorable, child-like manner Hope treasured, “Yeah, no, I understand.”

Hope thought that was the end of it, but Josie always seemed to have something up her sleeve. Her face lit up as she grabbed the manuscript from the vanity and lifted it for Hope to see. Hope quirked an eyebrow.

“The script,” Josie beamed, “Lizzie enchanted it so everything inside it appears on its copies.”

“Like Penelope’s burn book?”

“Yeah!” Josie flipped through it until she found the page she was looking for, “If I were to, I don’t know, accidentally take this out…” She ripped out a blue music sheet titled _Always and Tomorrow_ , “Then it disappears from all scripts, therefore it doesn’t exist in the play.”

A knot formed in Hope’s throat, roughing up her voice in all the wrong places, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s fair, I think. Landon said he’d get your permission to use it, but it never sat right with me—”

Hope threw her arms around Josie, burying her face on her shoulder, “Thank you, Jo.”

“Josie returned the hug, “Always.”

“One minute!” Came a muffled voice from the other side of the door.

Reluctantly, Hope detangled herself from Josie’s embrace. She nudged her toward the door, “Go! There’s no show without its star.”

Their bubble seemed to have burst and reality hit Josie hard, because her eyes widened in panic.

“Oh my God, Hope, what if I forget my lines or the choreography— _Argh_ , I knew I should’ve reviewed during lunch, it’s gonna be so embarrassing—”

Hope grabbed Josie’s hands, “Hey, look at me—you are the most talented person in the cast and have a beautiful voice. You’re going to kill it.”

She didn’t know what it was, perhaps her protective nature or the desire to make Josie see she was enough. Whatever possessed her, she pressed a soft kiss to Josie’s cheek.

“Thirty seconds!”

She smiled at Josie, “Break a leg, Jo.”

In the end, Hope watched the musical. It was better than expected, and hearing Josie sing beat sulking in her room. And when Dr. Goodfellow stepped in as her dad, Josie was by her side until she had to go back on stage for the final scene.

As the curtains closed, Hope found herself cheering the loudest.


End file.
